Have We Lost Our Culture of Tolerance? The Dangerous Transformation of Justice into Revenge
Amir Hussain’s Facebook post of 27 October 2026 raises a profound question about the moral and intellectual direction of our society: Where have we lost our culture, our tolerance, and our time-honoured tradition of respecting differences of opinion?
It is a question that deserves serious reflection, particularly in an age when social media has become an arena for instant judgments, public accusations, character assassination and demands for punishment—often without the benefit of evidence, due process or an impartial assessment of the facts.
We appear to have become increasingly adept at waging battles on social media, yet less willing to champion the principles that constitute the foundation of a just and civilised society. We readily take up the cause of our preferred side, denounce those who disagree with us, and demand that our opponents be held accountable. Yet, when it comes to establishing a transparent, impartial and accountable system of justice, our enthusiasm often diminishes.
The contradiction is striking: we profess to believe in justice, but too frequently our conception of justice is determined by the identity of the accused rather than the strength of the evidence. We demand accountability when our opponents are involved, but become defensive when the same standards are applied to those we support.
This is not a commitment to justice; it is a selective interpretation of justice, dictated by personal loyalties, ideological preferences and political affiliations.
When everyone becomes judge, jury and executioner
One of the most disturbing tendencies of our time is the assumption of judicial authority by individuals and groups who have neither the responsibility nor the institutional mandate to exercise it. A person is accused, a narrative is constructed, a verdict is pronounced on social media, and a campaign for punishment begins—all before the relevant facts have been independently established.
In this environment, the distinction between an allegation and a proven offence becomes blurred. Suspicion is treated as evidence, disagreement is interpreted as hostility, and public condemnation is mistaken for accountability.
Amir Hussain aptly captures this mentality by observing that we have adopted the practice of becoming our own judges, complainants and executioners. The metaphor is powerful because it exposes the dangers of allowing personal anger and collective prejudice to replace established legal procedures.
A society governed by the rule of law cannot permit accusations to become convictions merely because they are repeated loudly, shared widely or endorsed by an influential group. The right to defend oneself, the presumption of innocence, the impartial examination of evidence and the right to a fair hearing are not privileges reserved for those we like. They are fundamental safeguards that must remain available even to those whose opinions we detest.
Indeed, the real test of our commitment to justice is not whether we defend the rights of our friends and allies, but whether we are prepared to uphold the same rights for our adversaries.
Disagreement is not a crime
A healthy society does not require uniformity of thought. It requires the maturity to accommodate differences without abandoning mutual respect, civility and the principles of peaceful coexistence.
Differences of opinion are inevitable in any society characterised by diverse experiences, interests, beliefs and political convictions. They can stimulate intellectual inquiry, expose weaknesses in prevailing assumptions and encourage the search for better solutions to collective problems.
When disagreement is treated as disloyalty, dissent as subversion, and criticism as a punishable offence, society begins to lose its capacity for self-correction. People become reluctant to speak honestly, public debate degenerates into personal confrontation, and conformity gradually displaces independent thought.
The right to disagree, however, does not confer a licence to threaten, defame, incite violence or spread deliberate falsehoods. Freedom of expression must coexist with responsibility, and allegations of unlawful conduct should be investigated through lawful and impartial procedures.
The essential distinction is between challenging an argument and persecuting the person who advances it. The former is an indispensable feature of a free society; the latter can become a means of intimidation and exclusion.
Our cultural traditions of hospitality, tolerance, community solidarity and respect for elders and differing perspectives ought to encourage restraint in public discourse. Yet, cultural heritage cannot be sustained through ceremonial references alone. It must be reflected in our everyday conduct, particularly when emotions run high and the temptation to retaliate becomes irresistible.
The fascistic impulse: When power seeks conformity
Amir Hussain's warning that this mentality represents the foundations of fascism merits careful consideration.
Fascism is a specific and historically identifiable form of authoritarian politics, not simply another word for intolerance or vindictiveness. Nevertheless, the suppression of dissent, the demonisation of opponents, the subordination of truth to ideological loyalty and the demand for unquestioning conformity are tendencies associated with authoritarian and fascistic politics.
The danger begins when a group convinces itself that its own beliefs are beyond scrutiny and that those who challenge them are undeserving of ordinary rights. Once this assumption takes root, the law risks becoming an instrument of domination rather than a means of protecting everyone equally.
The process can begin without the formal abolition of democratic institutions. It may develop through the normalisation of public humiliation, the systematic delegitimisation of opposing voices and the collective pressure to punish individuals before an impartial inquiry has established their culpability.
The language of righteousness can make this process especially dangerous. Those engaged in it may genuinely believe that they are defending morality, religion, patriotism or the public interest. But good intentions, real or claimed, do not excuse the abandonment of fairness.
The decisive question is not whether we consider our cause righteous, but whether we are willing to submit our own conduct to the same standards of justice that we demand of others.
Social media: A forum for accountability or a tribunal of public opinion?
Social media has democratised communication by allowing ordinary citizens to question authority, expose wrongdoing and participate in public affairs. It can be a valuable instrument for civic awareness and accountability, particularly where conventional channels of communication are inaccessible or ineffective.
Yet, the same platforms can encourage the opposite tendencies. Their speed and reach allow unverified allegations to spread before facts can be checked. Emotional reactions often attract more attention than measured analysis, while users may be rewarded with approval and visibility for expressing outrage rather than exercising judgment.
A digital campaign can consequently assume the appearance of a public trial without the protections that a genuine trial is designed to provide. The accused may be condemned in the court of public opinion, while the original allegation remains unverified or is subsequently shown to be misleading.
This does not mean that public criticism should be discouraged or that powerful individuals should be shielded from scrutiny. On the contrary, investigative reporting, responsible whistleblowing and peaceful public criticism are essential to accountability.
The distinction lies in whether public engagement seeks the truth or merely seeks a target. Responsible criticism presents verifiable facts, acknowledges uncertainty, permits a response and corrects errors. Digital vigilantism, by contrast, often treats the destruction of an opponent's reputation as an achievement in itself.
We must therefore ask ourselves whether our online activism is helping to strengthen public institutions or weakening public confidence in the very principles upon which those institutions should operate.
Justice is not the satisfaction of vengeance
Perhaps the most consequential observation in Amir Hussain's post is that many of us appear to desire not justice itself, but the punishment of those we regard as our opponents.
The distinction between justice and vengeance is fundamental. Justice seeks to establish the truth, determine responsibility according to law, protect the innocent and impose proportionate consequences where wrongdoing is proved. Vengeance begins with a desire to inflict suffering and then seeks arguments to justify it.
Justice requires patience, impartiality and self-restraint. Vengeance thrives on anger, prejudice and the conviction that the ends justify the means.
An impartial system of justice must protect the innocent from wrongful accusation while ensuring that credible allegations of wrongdoing are investigated and substantiated misconduct is dealt with fairly. Neither impunity nor persecution is compatible with the rule of law.
This principle becomes particularly important when public sentiment is hostile towards an accused person. The more unpopular the individual, the greater the need to preserve procedural safeguards. Fairness is easy to demand for someone who enjoys public sympathy; its true value becomes apparent when the accused is widely disliked.
A society that abandons due process whenever the public demands punishment may eventually discover that the same arbitrary methods can be turned against anyone.
Reclaiming our cultural and moral inheritance
The way forward requires more than lamenting the decline of tolerance. It demands a conscious effort to restore the values that make peaceful coexistence possible.
First, we must recover the distinction between an allegation and an established fact. Before sharing an accusation or demanding punishment, we should ask whether the information is credible, whether the evidence has been examined and whether the accused has had a fair opportunity to respond.
Second, we must recognise that the rule of law is indivisible. We cannot demand impartial investigations, independent adjudication and accountability only when the outcome favours our own political, ideological or personal preferences.
Third, we must cultivate a culture of disagreement without hostility. Criticism should address arguments, conduct and policies rather than automatically attacking the dignity or character of those who hold opposing views.
Fourth, we must hold ourselves to the standards we expect from others. Ethical consistency requires us to condemn wrongdoing regardless of the identity, status or affiliations of the person responsible. Equally, it requires us to resist injustice even when its intended victim is someone with whom we profoundly disagree.
Finally, we must remember that cultural tolerance is not passive indifference to wrongdoing. It is the disciplined capacity to coexist with differences while remaining committed to truth, fairness and lawful conduct. A tolerant society can firmly oppose harmful behaviour without denying the humanity or rights of those responsible for it.
A question we cannot afford to ignore
Amir Hussain's post is ultimately a challenge to our collective conscience. It asks us to examine whether our public declarations of morality are matched by our conduct, and whether our demand for accountability arises from a genuine commitment to justice or from an appetite for retaliation.
The question is particularly relevant to societies where political polarisation, personal rivalries and competing ideological loyalties increasingly shape public discourse. Whenever we judge an allegation by the identity of the person accused, or determine the merits of a case according to whether its outcome benefits our preferred side, we contribute to the erosion of impartiality.
A civilised society is not one in which everyone thinks alike, nor one in which wrongdoing goes unpunished. It is one in which differences can be expressed without fear of persecution, allegations are examined without prejudice, and justice is administered without favour or vindictiveness.
Our cultural inheritance cannot survive on nostalgia alone. It must be renewed through the choices we make when confronted with disagreement, provocation and the prospect of condemning someone we dislike.
The ultimate measure of our commitment to justice is therefore not how passionately we demand punishment for our opponents. It is how consistently we defend fairness when doing so offers us no immediate advantage.
Do we genuinely want justice, or do we merely want our opponents punished?
Until we are prepared to answer this question honestly, our claims to morality, tolerance and civilisation will remain vulnerable to the very intolerance and vindictiveness we profess to condemn.
Justice must not be reduced to a weapon in the hands of the powerful, the popular or the self-righteous. It must remain an impartial principle that protects everyone, restrains arbitrary power and ensures that no individual or group stands above the law—or outside its protection.
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